Caught Red-Hooded
by Kei the Average
Summary: When it comes to storytellers, Captain Haddock may be the best around. Even if his stories aren't the most accurate. Mild implications abound with some sweet Haddotin at the end.


A/N: I had this idea yesterday morning while I was lying in bed. I've always been a sucker for fairy tales, and I wouldn't doubt that the captain might be too. He also seems like a chap with an incredible skill at storytelling—he's got such a powerful voice and a good sense of humor, after all. So here is his own rendition of the classic Little Red Riding Hood tale. But be warned: it's a little different from what you may remember…

xoxox

So once upon a time there was this little lad named Little Red Riding Hood. Of course, he was called this because he always wore a long, hooded red cape whenever he left the house—he had a nice head of red hair, too, so that also may be why. Little Red was a pretty little thing, slender and young with a pleasant, freckled face; but he was also smart as a whip and stronger than he looked, and most of the people who knew him knew not to mess with him.

Little Red had a granny that he was just nuts over, loved the little old lady to pieces. One day he heard that she had become very sick, so he decided he'd take one last chance to go and visit her. He packed a basket full of goodies for her and travelled the forest trail to her country cottage.

While he was walking in the forest, he felt the oddest sensation that he was being followed. He looked every which way around him, trying to find any unwanted stalkers. Suddenly he turned around and there in front of him stood a tall, lanky, ugly old wolf. His beard and nose were both quite pointy and his whole body was covered in messy brown fur—though it carried the illusion that he tried to keep it well combed—and upon seeing Little Red, he opened his mouth into a lecherous, toothy grin.

"Hello, my little pet," he greeted with a false sense of gentlemanliness. "What are you doing travelling all alone in the forest?"

But Little Red remained unencumbered by the wolf's presence. "I'm travelling to my grandmother's; she's very sick, and I must see her."

Little Red tried to walk past the sour-faced wolf, but the wolf grabbed the redhead by his arm. "It's not very wise for a delicate little thing like you to be walking in a big scary forest like this by yourself," he warned, growling low into Little Red's ear. "Some terrible creature may come in from behind and snatch you away."

By this point the wolf had Little Red backed up into a tree, trapping him. But the wolf had made the mistake of underestimating this boy's strength. Little Red responded to the wolf's threat by landing him a straight jab to the gut! The wolf felt the wind knocked out of him and he crumpled to the ground, lights knocked completely out of him! Little Red said nothing, having enough pity for the fuzzy-wuzzy to not embarrass him further with a witty one-liner, and continued on his way.

Eventually Little Red had travelled long and far enough that his incident with the wolf had been pushed to the back of his mind. It was cold and pouring outside, and he was soaked to the bone, but all he could think about now was getting to his grandmother's to be with her in her final moments.

But alas! Meanwhile at his grandmother's cottage awaited the ugly brown wolf! The old troglodyte had eaten the poor lad's grandmother, not a scrap left behind! He knew that Little Red was coming soon, so he snatched up her old clothes and jumped in her bed, covers pulled high over his head when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" he said in his best—though it wasn't very convincing—little grandma voice.

Little Red stepped inside, clothes dripping, completely unaware of the true fate of his beloved grandmother. He approached the bed where the wolf was waiting for him incognito.

"Grandmama?" said the redhead. "It's me, Little Red. I heard you were sick so I came right over and—"

"That's wonderful, my little pet," the fresh-water politician lied. "Oh, but look at you! You're soaking wet and freezing! Come into bed with me, it's warm and dry here."

Poor Little Red had been fooled completely by this two-headed sack of wine! He began to remove his red hood and stripped down until he was completely naked—_don't look at me like that, Tintin, that's in the original story, look it up!_—and climbed into bed with the wolf none the wiser.

The wolf licked his lips at the sight of this pretty child lying next to him. His soft skin and delicate features looked so delicious and inviting. Ditching the grandma charade completely, he revealed his true self, pinning the redhead to the bed by his wrists, no longer able to stand the wait of devouring Little Red Riding Hood! Making the realization that he was about to become the wolf's next main course, the boy let out a terrific scream in terror.

Meanwhile outside of the cottage worked a friendly lumberjack. He was, shall I say_, incredibly handsome,_ a jet-black hair with a shaggy beard and a strong built-body. He was easily chopping down a large tree—in the rain, too! What a trooper!—when he heard Little Red Riding Hood's cries for help. The lumberjack dropped what he was doing, and made for the cottage at light speed, busting down the door with a single kick.

His eyes widened when he saw the wolf in bed, his back turned to the lumberjack. The wolf was holding Little Red's legs, which were kicking and putting up a good fight to keep the wolf from pouncing onto him. Oh, but the old bashi-bazouk had made a terrible, awful mistake! Unbeknownst to him, the lumberjack and Little Red were actually lovers! When the lumberjack saw his beloved Little Red in the wolf's clutches, oh, it put him in a right state!

The wolf's distraction gave Little Red the perfect opportunity to escape the abomination's grasp and throw him off of the bed. The lumberjack charged at the wolf, axe in one hand, and put the miserable creature six feet under!

Although they had won—the wolf had only gotten away with making a few little bite marks at Little Red's neck and chest, but they'd fade away with time, the pair knew—the lumberjack and Little Red still felt despair that the boy's dear grandmother had been gobbled up by the wolf. But then they remembered that she wouldn't want them to live their lives grieving over her, so they didn't. Instead, they later moved into her cottage together, where they ate wolf-meat sandwiches and made filthy, passionate love every day.

_And they lived happily ever after._

.

.

"So, whaddya think, laddie?" Haddock closed the book of fairy tales and set it on the nightstand, getting himself comfy in his bed. "I think I've got the makings of a good storyteller if I do say so myself."

Tintin chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I've certainly never heard the story told _that _way before."

"What can I say? I'm an unsung master of improvisations. Twenty years of tall tale-telling to my sailors have made me an expert."

"The ending felt a little rushed, but I liked it overall. Though I have to say," Tintin commented, smirking, "There was something about those characters—especially your versions of Little Red Riding Hood and the lumberjack—that seemed awfully familiar."

The captain snickered nervously, waving his hand. "Probably just a coincidence, I'm sure! A mere demonstration of art imitating life!"

"I wouldn't doubt it, _mon beau bûcheron."_

Haddock blinked in surprise as his cover had been blown. But Tintin didn't say anything more, instead merely scooting closer to the captain's side of the bed, snuggling close to his chest.

"Do you think you could read me another one of your Haddock-ified fairytales tomorrow night?"

The old sea dog grinned tiredly, wrapping his arms around his young partner.

"I think I can arrange something. You're gonna love my rendition of _The Three Little Pigs!"_

xoxox

A/N: As a younger me used to say after my mom would read me a good book before bedtime—" That was a wonderful story!"

Haddock wasn't lying about the whole Little Red stripping thing. In early versions of the story—this fairytale traces back to the fourteenth century, so no wonder there are so many versions of the tale!—it mentions the wolf inviting Little Red to strip and get into bed with him. Draw your own conclusions with that.

And P.S. - Mon beau bûcheron = my handsome lumberjack.


End file.
